


this kitchen table bears the weight of our problems (and god knows we’ve had our share)

by thedevil_andgod



Series: that’s just how the story goes [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, No Powers - AU, PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevil_andgod/pseuds/thedevil_andgod
Summary: the life of dave wilson, and his son, dj.





	this kitchen table bears the weight of our problems (and god knows we’ve had our share)

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta’d & pretty much unedited o well \\_(0-0)_/ inspired by & dedicated to the grubby gremlin gang. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR: domestic abuse, acts of violence, mentions of drug/alcohol abuse, implied (brief) mentions of sexual coercion, eating disorders, hospitals, implied self-harm, brief mentions of ptsd-caused flashbacks. 
> 
> wow. ya’ll really. got the angst out of me!

dave wilson meets laila jones in the army, the first time he is deployed. she’s smart, sharp, with a soft heart under a steel exterior. dark curls frame a sweet-heart face, full lips and button nose, and dark eyes draw in him before he can even pause to blink. 

what else is an eighteen year old to do, but fall in love? 

they pay their dues in the military. they face the shit and come back stronger, and in some dusty, sweltering desert somewhere, dave gets down on one knee and proposes. their entire legion cheer and whistle and clap as laila tearfully accepts, before she whispers to him the best thing he has ever heard in his life.

they’re twenty three when dj wilson is born. two weeks premature, he comes out quiet, eyes wide and staring. as blue as his father’s, as intense as his mother’s. their little two-bedroom semi is nothing special but it’s theirs, it’s cosy, and dave knows that after everything they faced as soldier, making a home with the people he loves? will be a walk through a sweet, sunny meadow.

 

dj is six months old, when laila packs her things. it’s not ... exactly out of the blue. they’d been arguing over juvenile things, shit that didn’t matter. but she throws her clothes and a picture of dj into her army-issued pack, with dry eyes and a determined expression. tells dave, ‘’ i wasn’t made for this. ‘’ tells dave, ‘’ i love our son, but it’s not enough. ‘’

she walks out that night. never looking back.

the whiskey whispers to dave as he gazes at the delicious amber liquid through thick glass. he’s just reaching for it when a whine from the corner signals dj waking up. dave drops his head to the tabletop with a thump and sighs.

 

six months old and still tiny, his son wriggles in a soft blue all-in-one as he awakens. his mouth opens in an ‘’oh’’ as he yawns, and long lashes flutter for a few seconds. then crystal blue eyes peer up at dave. heartbroken, terrified dave, with love and trust in spades. it makes the breath catch in his throat. then, dj coos, and giggles, and smiles wide and heartbreaking and just like that, all the negative thoughts, all the loneliness and fear, just washes away.

as dave feeds dj, sitting on the couch, he watches this fragile human in his arms and knows. nothing in the world could tear him away. he hums and rocks the bundle he holds with care, murmurering, ‘’ me and you, well. we’re gonna be just fine. we’ll protect each other, okay? ‘’

dj just drifts peacefully off to sleep. safe, warm, and cared for, and dave resolves to do whatever he has to do to ensure dj always feels that way. 

 

—

ptsd is a cruel affliction. it isn’t so bad, when dj’s still small and waking every few hours to feed. when he starts sleeping through the night, dave’s exhaustion and anxieties crash down on top of him like a tonne of bricks. threatening to crush him completely. 

flashbacks plague him, panic attacks cripple him, leaving him curled on the floor, one hand gripping the edge of the shaggy rug by the leg of his bed. gasping. choking. banging his head off the floorboards. the longer it continues the more he understands, that he cannot allow his baby boy to see him like this. weak, vulnerable. a mess. he resolves to keep these freakouts to dark nights, the kind of nights even the moon is too afraid to show her face.

it works, sort of, and so he pushes on, without facing his problems, feeling like he has. 

 

—

his son grows up far too quick. time slips through their fingers, like sand through an hourglass. one moment, he’s tying tiny shoelaces onto tiny feet, wiping sticky hands, and the next, dj is hopping off to elementary school, backpack high on his shoulders. and dave is watching with a bittersweet smile, tears in his eyes he’s sure to keep hidden until the bell rings and the door is shut. in a sea of parents he’s never felt so alone. all around him, the only thing he can see is couples comforting one another as their children take a big step.

he hasn’t missed having a partner, until this moment.

but, it gets easier. he helps with math homework, part-time work as a personal trainer allowing him the flexibility to spend evenings with his little guy, saturdays and sundays saved for sundaes, walks to the park, trips to the zoo, to the cinema. dave packs their time together with fun, educational things, does his best to make dj’s days happy and full.

the ptsd plagues him at night. by some miracle, dave trains himself not to scream when he jerks awake, trembling, sweating, gunshots echoing around the room. when the flashbacks grip tight he either lays on the floor, the cool wood harsh and grounding, or walks all around the house counting to a thousand. checking in on dj every couple hundred, wearing invisible tracks into the floorboards. he does this until he’s too exhausted to function and barely makes it back to his room before passing out.

he’s always exhausted, but the most important thing is that dj never knows. 

 

—

dj is eight years old, when dave meets klaus hargreeves. the first time he sees him, they don’t interact. dave is waiting to pick dj up from school when someone catches his eyes at the gates. someone new.

the man is something to behold. between the leather skirt, the see-through top, and the diamanté-studded flipflops, dave isn’t entirely sure where to look.

but he looks anyway, at everything, eyes roaming over the, admittedly, rather delectable sight. it isn’t until dj is tugging at his hand that he realises that he’s been staring and blushes painfully.

‘’ hey, junebug! how was your day? ‘’ he asks, distracting himself with hugging his son tight.

‘’ it was good! what were you looking at? ‘’

dave tries to think of something as dj examines their surroundings. but his gaze is drawn back to the tall man with the bizarre dress sense. a young girl with two tight braids runs through the gates and flings herself at him with an excited squeal. he lifts her up, effortlessly, it seems. stronger than he looks, dave thinks, absently.

dj is tugging on his hand again. ‘’ pops? ‘’

he shakes himself out of his stupor. he nods toward the now retreating figures, one tall, one small. ‘’ isn’t that claire hargreeves? ‘’

dj nods. ‘’ yeah! ‘’ he digs through his backpack excitedly, thrusting a piece of card into dave’s hands. ‘’ it’s her birthday party on saturday, it’s at the playcentre! the one with the huge ballpit! ‘’ his blue eyes are sparkling with anticipation, hands clapping together.

dave glances at the card. takes note of the date and time. then smiles at his son. ‘’ well, then. we better go shopping for a birthday gift for claire. ‘’

 

—

luckily for dave, the man from the school turns up at the party. dj had run straight into the jungle gym the moment he kicked off his shoes, leaving dave stranded with strangers. he doesn’t know any of the parents - they look at him with pity and suck their teeth and shake their head. he can almost hear their gossipy whispers sneaking out from behind cupped hands.

 

‘’ it’s such a _shame_ \- he’s so handsome! ‘’

‘’ you have to wonder, though, why she would leave. ‘’

‘’ and not take her son? selfish cow. ‘’

‘’ now, now, delores. let’s not judge what we don’t know about. ‘’

 

he ignores them, orders an overpriced coffee from the kiosk, and sits alone at a table, feeling awkward. it isn’t until allison can get away from other mothers that she approaches him with a kind smile. the man from the other day in tow. this time he’s wearing leather pants, laced at the sides, a worn green tank top, looking laid back and casual - and no less attractive.

‘’ you’re dj’s dad, right? ‘’ dave nods and smiles and shakes her hand. allison indicates to the man, ‘’ this is my brother, klaus. ‘’

klaus. somehow the name fits perfectly. dave wonders if klaus can feel the electricty between them as they shake hands. ‘’ thank you so much for coming, and for the lovely dress, ‘’ allison says.

 

‘’ dj actually picked it out, ‘’ dave replies, and klaus takes interest, tilting his head to the side.

‘’ oh, well, then. looks like your son has good taste! ‘’

and dave doesn’t know why he glows at the sort-of compliment. but he does. and then klaus takes it upon himself to sit with dave, because, ‘’ a handsome man like yourself should not be left unattended. ‘’ and dave blushes brighter than he ever has before, noticing klaus’ long eyelashes, the magnetic pull of his eyes, the curve of pale lips stretching into a teasing smile.

they chat and laugh and klaus’ fingers brush the backs of dave’s hands a couple times, and, okay. dave’s been out of the game a while now but surely he’s not reading this wrong, right? when the party comes to a close, he thinks, ah, screw it. 

 

‘’ so, um. i don’t suppose you’d ... maybe like to go for a drink sometime? with me? ‘’ he tries, wearing a hopeful smile.

‘’ i’d love to! ‘’ klaus exclaims, hand splayed over his heart. dave grins - ‘’ but, i can’t, ‘’ the other man finishes, and dave’s heart sinks. he feels his expression falling and does his best to neutralise his features.

‘’ oh! okay. sorry, i - ‘’ he grows flustered and tries to shrug off the disappointment. klaus sighs and hesitates, before stepping closer to dave. 

 

‘’ i don’t drink, ‘’ he explains, worry, fear, evident in his eyes. ‘’ i don’t - ha, i don’t do alcohol anymore, ‘’ and he’s trying to be casual, but fuck, dave gets it. and he’s relieved. sort of, anyway. if all that stopped klaus from accepting a date was alcohol then ...

‘’ we could get a coffee, instead? ‘’ he suggests warmly, trying to express without words that he’s not judging klaus. ‘’ or pancakes. waffles. whatever. ‘’ 

klaus pauses, searching dave’s face for any hint of ... disgust, maybe, or anything that could mean dave is simply messing with him. but his handsome face displays only sincerity, and klaus begins to feel warm im his belly, which, wow. he nods, finally. 

 

‘’ i’d like that, ‘’ he agrees, shyly. ‘’ i’d - i’d really like that. ‘’

 

—

 

things don’t ... exactly go perfectly for these two train-wrecks, but, hey. the course of true love never did run smooth, right? ... right.

they date, taking things slow, and it’s not until five months into their courtship that dave even begins to consider broaching the subject of his being on the dating scene again to dj.

he knows that it affects his son, the people he chooses to let in to his life. the people he dates - it’s always been only him and dj, and the last thing he wants is for dj to feel replaced. turns out, he had nothing to worry about.

dj and claire (klaus’s niece) foster a strong friendship, spending all their time together. it’s sweet, and dave likes claire. she’s clever and kind, and allison, like him, is a single parent. so they have that little bit of common ground, that solidarity during parent-teacher evenings when the couples look at them with pity. allison just rolls her eyes at dave across classrooms and corridors and dave grins back. for the first time, in a long time, feeling not alone. 

 

—

the first time dave sees klaus high, it’s three pm on a saturday. he’s left dj with his friends at the cinema, taking a stroll around town and enjoying some free time. 

klaus stumbles out of a bar with four others, but dave zeroes in on klaus’ sweaty skin, his dilated pupils. the slur in his voice as he calls out ‘’ DAAAAAAVE! ‘’ excitedly. doesn’t miss the stutter of his steps as he approaches. dave stands still and crosses his arms over his chest. 

‘’ klaus. what are you doing? ‘’

klaus grins, too lazy, too lax. ‘’ jus’ hanging out with some friends, ‘’ he jerks a thumb backward, indicating to the crowd he left at the door of the pub.

 

‘’ you said you were clean. ‘’

 

klaus frowns slightly. ‘’ i am! ‘’ he insists, even as he rocks on his heels. dave sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

‘’ does allison know? ‘’ off klaus’ blank epression, he continues, ‘’ that you’ve fallen off the wagon. ‘’

klaus takes an unsteady step back. ‘’ what - no. i haven’t! i’m just - i had a few drinks - ‘’

‘’ and a few pills, by the looks of your eyes. ‘’ dave tells him, thin-voiced. klaus’ face drops and his eyes darken.

‘’ so. who the fuck cares? ‘’

‘’ i care, klaus. ‘’

‘’ yeah. for now. ‘’ dave‘s brow creases, mouth still trying to find the words as klaus keeps going. ‘’ it doesn’t matter. no-one stays, not for _me_. i’m klaus, for fuckssake. whatever. i’ll see you around, wilson. ‘’

 

klaus turns and stumbles back, disappearing into the jaws of the pub, and dave fumbles with his phone.

allison arrives, with backup - a man with a scar across the side of his head, an angry expression, dressed all in black.

‘’ thanks for calling, ‘’ allison looks and sounds apologetic, and dave squeezes her hands gently.

‘’ no need to thank me. i just - thought you should know. ‘’

allison nods and can’t quite hide the exhaustion evident on her face, though she dries. ‘’ this is diego, our brother. diego, this is dave wilson, his son goes to school with claire. ‘’

dave waves. diego gives him the once over and nods once. allison swears under her breath. ‘’ well, we’d better ... ‘’ 

dave agrees and backs away, wishing them luck. he thinks about klaus the whole way home.  

 

he likes klaus - everything about him, the way he talks, walks, dances to no music, says what he’s thinking with no filter. he likes holding klaus’ hand - it’s not easy to remember that the last time someone’s laughter made his heart skip a beat, that person walked away from him. and dj was too young to remember laila, but introducing klaus now ...

 

if it didn’t work, what would that do to dj? could it affect his friendship with claire?

 

dave does not want to judge klaus. clearly, the man has been through the wringer and back. the little he’s uncovered of a long, bruised past has been hard enough to hear about, never mind to live through. then he has to consider that what he knows about klaus’ life is only a fraction of the story.

 

as dj heads to bed that night, dave comes to a decision. monday morning, he drops his son at school, then, having cancelled his morning training session, drives out to allison’s house.

 

there he meets klaus, who looks away when he enters the room. there’s shame in the way klaus holds himself, so thin and barely holding himself together. but he’s sober, and that’s something, dave thinks.

they sit on the sofa and klaus tells him he’s going back to aa. he starts to explain why he relapsed but remembers his father, and clamps his mouth shut. it takes a good long while for dave to coax the explanation from klaus. dave does what he can to assure klaus he wants to hear what he has to say, that he’s here to listen as well as talk.

and klaus is definitely used to **talking** , but not used to being **listened** **to**. so he cries through it all, and dave is so patient, so comforting, it breaks him apart even further. 

klaus had panicked about their relationship - ‘’ i’ve never ... i’ve really never felt such a real, true connection with someone, and i knew i was going to do something to screw it up. and - everyone before you? i don’t even - ‘’ klaus hiccoughs and sniffs and curls in on himself as he admits, ‘’ i don’t even remember their names - not even their faces. i was always high, or drunk, or both, and i never cared about them. they never cared about me. ‘’

 

and klaus looks so tiny and pale as he confesses all this to dave in a small voice. ‘’ then you, ‘’ his face brightens ever so slightly, ‘’ you, being so kind, and beautiful. i didn’t - i wanted you, not just - i wanted to just be with you. to talk to you and hold your hand and that was, god, it is everything just to be with you. and i got scared and i messed up on purpose and i’m sorry, dave, because i love you - ‘’ klaus cuts himself off with a gasp, leaning over his legs as he tries to even out his breathing.

 

dave rubs soothing circles over his spine, then slides his fingers between klaus’, and he smiles, soft and open and vulnerable when the other man looks up at him with a fearful hope. ‘’ i love you, too. ‘’

klaus’ mouth falls open. surely not, surely no way - dave sees the disbelief and cups klaus’ face with his free hand. ‘’ hey. i love you, too, ‘’ he repeats, firm, ‘’ and i’m willing to work through this with you. to be with you. ‘’

 

and klaus leans into the hand on his cheek, revelling in the soft warmth and the feeling of being safe and wanted. dave’s face grows solemn and he presses their foreheads together.

‘’ but i have a son, klaus, ‘’ he reminds him, klaus nodding, ‘’ and this... this can’t happen again. i have to think of him. i have to put him first. ‘’

klaus nods and pulls away to wipe the tears off his face. he takes a moment, to gather himself. then takes both of dave’s hands in his, looking determined, a little scared, but also very sure of what he’s saying. 

‘’ of course, of course you do. i understand. and i - i am going to get clean, and stay clean, this time. i go back to rehab for a couple weeks tomorrow - but if you’re _sure_ , if you want to be here when i come back - ‘’

 

dave brings their joined hands to his lips, drops the gentlest of kisses along the seam where their fingers meet. ‘’ i’ll be waiting, baby. if you’re willing to do the hard work, so am i. ‘’ his face softens as he notices klaus tearing up again. ‘’ there’s only been one person before you. i don’t take relationships lightly, ‘’ he confesses, averting his eyes, a little embarrassed.‘’ i want to make this work. ‘’

klaus moves closer on the sofa, waiting for dave to lift his eyes before saying, ‘’ me, too. ‘’ 

and they stare at one another for an endless moment, both of them feeling as though a weight has lifted off their chests. dave moves in first, hands untangling from klaus’ to slide around the nape of his neck. klaus moves his hands to dave’s waist, holding light but firm. 

it’s not their first kiss, but it may as well be- it feels like it. with all the honesty they just shared, everything seems brand new, utterly breathtaking - and worth fighting for.

 

—

dj takes to klaus like he’s the missing piece of their family puzzle. everytime klaus panics that he’ll let dj down or screw him up, all it takes is dj asking klaus to help with his english homework (turns out klaus has quite the knack for poetry) for him to relax and spend time with him. dave can’t quite describe the emotion that wells inside him when he sees them together, dj half asleep on klaus’ shoulder during movie night. klaus working through a particularly difficult math question, step by step, at the kitchen table.

soothing dj’s frustrated cries when he feels stupid for not understanding right away. dave gets this warm, glowy feeling all over as he watches them bond. and, again, it’s not perfect.

but whenever things do get heated. when dave looks a little too longingly at the whiskey in the grocery store, when klaus itches in his skin for a buzz he’s still learning not to miss. when sharp words cut through the comfort of home and land deep in frail hearts, both of them take a step back. they remember the day on the couch in allison’s house. remembering that promise, to work through the hard stuff. it never takes long for them to resolve their issues - at least, the ones in their relationship. their personal issues rage on behind thin curtains of pretence. dave still has nightmares, flashbacks, but plays them off in front of klaus and dj. klaus still feels worthless sometimes, still believes he’s dirty and wrong but sits with those thoughts alone in the dark until the worst of them pass.

—

 

dj is thirteen when he gets suspended from school - for fighting. dave is crazy mad, klaus, less so.

‘’ in this family, we do not use our fists to solve problems! ‘’

dj scowls at the table. not exactly the picture of teenage rebellion with his bright res shirt and denim shorts, bony arms crossed tight over his chest. dave pinches the bridge of his nose and points at the door. ‘’ go to your room. i can’t - go to your room. ‘’

when dj’s gone, klaus turns to him. ‘’ you should go easy on him, dave. ‘’

dave splutters, face reddening. ‘’ go easy on - klaus, he punched a kid in the face! ‘’

 

‘’ he’s thirteen- ‘’

‘’ that’s no excuse- ‘’

‘’ i **know** , but- ‘’

‘’ there’s no **justification** \- ‘’

‘’ he’s a good kid, i just think - ‘’

 

dave snaps. ‘’ **nothing**! ‘’ he cuts klaus off sharply. ‘’ you think **nothing**. dj is **my** son! ‘’ he regrets the words the second they hit the air. klaus crumbles a little bit inside but swallows down past the lump in his throat. he nods, pursing his lips.

 

‘’ well, ‘’ he says, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide the break in his voice, ‘’ you’re right. i think you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. ‘’ he smiles, too wide, too sharp, ‘’ i’ll just... see myself out. let you deal with your son. ‘’

 

dave watches klaus leave, stoic and still. the moment the door shuts his facade shatters. he slumps down at the table and puts his head in his hands, a few sly tears slipping out.

 

dj pokes his head around the door. ‘’ pops? ‘’ he asks, in a small voice. dave stiffens, trying to discreetly wipe his tears away. he looks up at his son, who looks guilty. dj inches forward and then sits down next to his father.

‘’ you know you don’t always have to be the strong one, pops, ‘’ his son tells him, a subtle strength in his gentle tone. ‘’ it’s okay to break down every once in a while. you’ll always have me to pick you back up again. ‘’

dave’s eyes burn with tears. he smiles. ‘’ when did you get to be such a wise young man? ‘’ he teases affectionately, anger quickly forgotten. dj smiles, too. then, his face drops and he looks away, tapping his fingers nervously against the wooden tabletop.

‘’ so, today. when i ... punched that kid... ‘’ he begins, very deliberately not making eye contact, ‘’ it was ... and it’s no excuse, i know, but ... ‘’ he sighs and runs a hand through his curly blonde hair, shaking a little. ‘’ it was because he ... said stuff. about you, and pops. ‘’

dave’s heart breaks. he hates to think of his son, his sweet, loving son, coming face to face with ignorance and hate. he knows he cannot hide him away from the real world, though, as much as it pains to admit.

‘’ what kind of stuff? ‘’

‘’ just. horrible, insensitive ... just crap, pops. but i ... i lost it, and i’m sorry, i wanted to defend you and dad and i - i saw red, and i hate that i did it, and i’m sorry, ‘’ his lower lip quivers and dave quickly wraps his arms around his small frame. kissing his head and rocking him slightly, like when he was a baby.

 

‘’ it’s alright, junebug, ‘’ he soothes, rubbing circles onto dj’s shaking back, ‘’ it’s alright. i know you wanted to defend your family. but getting angry doesn’t help you, it only helps them, ‘’ he reminds him, gently. dj nods against his chest. ‘’ it’s hard, but you have to ignore it, baby. you already understand more about love and compassion than they do, which means you’re already at an advantage. ‘’ dave pulls back, cradling dj’s face in his hands. taking in his son’s features, button nose, cupid’s bow lips, warm eyes watery and red. ‘’ your heart knows better, ‘’ he promises, kissing dj’s forehead. ‘’ just try to remember that, before your fists do the thinking. ‘’

dj nods and smiles. ‘’ thanks, pops. i promise, it won’t happen again. ‘’ he heads for the door again, pausing at the threshold.

‘’ oh, and pops? call dad. i’m sure he’ll understand. just let your heart do the thinking before your mouth starts talking, ‘’ he grins, and dave throws a dishtowel in his direction. a warm feeling in his chest as he listens to dj’s shrieks and laughter as he escapes down the hallway.

 

 _yeah_ , he thinks, _yeah_. he’s going to be alright.

 

—

dj is also thirteen when he starts dating a kid from school, michael howard. mikey, as dj calls him. mikey is in his grade at school, a ‘’cool kid’’ by all standards. blonde, tall, conventionally handsome. looked up to by their peers, rich and unafraid to brag about it, dj falls head over heels, which dave thinks is adorable. 

little did he know. 

but that’s getting ahead of ourselves. dj falls in love for the first time and spends months walking on air. a dreamy look constant in his eyes, skin agleam with that ‘’first love’’ glow. he waxes poetic about mikey’s strong arms and pretty green eyes that you could just get lost in.

 

dave asks klaus, ‘’ we’re not that bad, are we? ‘’ actually worried they’re as lovesick as dj seems to be. klaus snorts, ‘’ nah! ‘’ and then drags himself onto dave’s lap in the middle of the café they’re sitting in.

dave takes klaus’ word for it.

 

dj has always been on the skinny side, so no-one really notices when he starts to lose weight. what people do notice, however, is that slowly, but surely, dj’s shine begins to dim a little. he swaps out sundresses and silky shirts for jeans and plain tee shirts, strappy sandals for slip-on runners, and makeup for nothing.

he dyes his hair a dark brown, shocking dave and klaus. but dj insists he ‘’ just wanted a change ‘’ and ‘’ i can always grow it out ‘’. neither of his father’s wants to row with him over something as silly as hair colour, so they push past their astonishment and admire it. shoving away the little, niggling doubts in their minds. 

—

‘’ why is your hair the colour of shit? ‘’ mikey wants to know, sneering at his boyfriend. dj fidgets with his hands, looking down at the floor.

 

‘’ i thought ... you said it’d look nicer brown ... ‘’ he explains, and mikey shrugs.

 

‘’ not shit-brown, i meant, like, chocolate brown, ‘’ he rolls his eyes and then grabs a handful of dj’s hair, pulling it just this side of too harsh. dj yelps in both pain and shock. mikey releases him with a cruel laugh. ‘’ anyway, it’s not surprising you fucked it up. you can’t do anything right. ‘’

 

he says these words so casually, as if he doesn’t realise the damage they are causing. as if he doesn’t care how much he’s hurting dj. he tells dj to fuck off home.

‘’ i thought we were going to jennifer’s party? ‘’ dj reminds him in a small voice. mikey sneers again, eyeing him with disdain. 

‘’ i ain’t going nowhere with you looking like that. ‘’

 

so dj walks home alone and then locks himself in the bathroom. he looks at his shit-coloured hair and his red eyes and a spark of self-hatred ignites itself inside. it’s small, but it stays, flickering in his gut.

 

—

at first dave thinks that dj’s behavioural changes are normal, teenage boy things. he remembers being a teenager himself, after all. feeling like you’re up against the world, like your parents couldn’t possibly begin to understand you.

as time goes on, though, he begins to doubt that any of this is normal. dj becomes a timebomb, ticking constantly, exploding out of nowhere and over the smallest of things. dave knows that teenagers struggle with hormones, with moodswings, but this is becoming something he can’t handle and - is it him? has he done something _wrong_?

he starts thinking maybe everything is normal and it’s him who has the problem. is he just a bad father? is he just a disappointment? 

this new anxiety spawns new nightmares. klaus leaves him, but this time, dj goes, too. his boyfriend and his son, the two people he loves most in this world, staring at him blankly, only a hint of disgust hanging on the curl of their lips as they walk out and leave him alone. 

when he wakes up crying, and klaus holds him, klaus assumes it’s army flashbacks. dave doesn’t correct him. if he becomes too needy, too clingy, then that will just push klaus away. he doesn’t want to push klaus away by smothering him so he keeps his worries to himself. 

 

—

(age 14)

mikey presses dj into the wall behind the basketball courts. kissing him, hard, all teeth, and dj can do nothing but submit. the hand that begins on his shoulders wanders down a little too far, and he tries to shift away. there’s no room, caught between mikey’s body and the bricks behind him. 

 

‘’ he - hey, stop, ‘’ he pants, straining to escape. mikey laughs and digs his fingers into dj’s hips. he glances down and his lips curl up.

‘’ good thing there’s plenty here to grab, ‘’ he mutters, vindictive, and dj’s stomach clenches. ‘’ what did you have for lunch, a five course meal or something? ‘’ and dj is too blinded by love to notice the glint of malice in those green eyes. mikey stamps another kiss across dj’s mouth, hard, bordering on painful. ‘’ see you on friday. don’t be late. ‘’ his boyfriend warns, before pushing off the wall and walking away.

at home, in the bathroom, he locks the door again. pinches the skin on his hips and belly and thighs and arms, and fails to notice the curves of his bones protruding through his skin. all he can see is chub, flab, his eyes screw up as he kneels by the toilet and lifts the lid.

 

afterward, he’s rinsing his mouth, standing by the sink on shaking legs. he feels ... powerful. in control. and this time, when he looks in the mirror, he looks beyond the bloodshot eyes and the tangled, sweaty brown hair he kind of despises. he looks beyond the pale pallor of the skin and the hollow of his cheeks and sees only someone who is in control. he smiles. thin. bare.

 

he feels in control.

 

—

klaus wonders, sometimes, if he should give dj the talk about drugs. high school, he’s heard, is full of dealers and peer pressure. he wants to warn dj. tell him all the things klaus’ own father didn’t, couldn’t be bothered too. teach him the lessons he learned the hard way.

thing is, he feels as though it’s not his place. he’s - sort of dj’s step-father now, he guesses, but he doesn’t deserve the title. he’s an addict, he’s broken in ways too horrifying to describe, and dave and dj are pure and perfect and he feels as though he dirties this pristine family. 

but being anxious and self-conscious, makes him think he’s being selfish. looking for compliments, constant reassurance, and it is not dave’s job to make klaus feel better about himself. instead klaus runs himself into the ground, wears himself out, trying desperately to be the man he thinks they deserve. he tries and he tries and sometimes, when he’s alone, he breaks down, sobbing violently into his fist. hearing his father’s voice echoing down, or, rather, up, from the pits of hell. ‘’ weak. pathetic. useless. ‘’

without the alcohol or drugs klaus cannot find a way to block the whispers out. if he drinks again, or uses, he loses the man he loves. but isn’t love meant to drive you insane anyway? klaus knows now, six years into sobriety, he’d choose dave and the impending insanity he’s doomed to fall into over and over and over again. 

 

—

speaking of insanity. dj slips a little more as days pass by. mikey’s constant putdowns wear a hole through his chest that aches all the time. no amount of weed or alcohol or blurry teenage parties is enough to fill the gap, the edges raw and sharp to touch. one night, mikey kicks him out of bed at three am. dj is high and drunk and half-asleep, and in the confusion, tries to climb back into the bed. thinking it was an accident.

 

mikey takes no prisoners as he proves to dj it was no accident.

 

dj knows that going home like this means grounding for life. he stinks of booze and weed and his throat is covered in purple bruises, his hips patterned grey and black in the shape of fingertips. he walks the back alleys of the town until dawn breaks over the horizon, his feet like blocks of ice, fingers frozen together, eyes dry of tears.

 

thank god for claire. she lets him in through her bedroom window and purses her lips but stays silent as dj takes a shower. she sits on the toilet seat while the water runs, so her mother thinks it’s her. she lends dj a soft shirt and tracksuit bottoms, the kind with the stretchy waist. dj is struck with both pride and shame as they immediately pool around his ankles. there’s not enough of him to hold them up.

 

claire still stays silent, biting her tongue. dj ties a knot on the strings of the sweats as tight as he can, though he still has to be careful when he moves. dj knows his best friend wants to say something, but can’t. he knows she has her own secrets, secrets he swore to keep, and so they trap themselves in their own purgatory. claire doesn’t mention the fact that dj is more skeleton than human, and dj keeps quiet about the scars on her legs.

 

as he leaves through the window again, claire takes a breath, as though preparing to speak. dj pauses. claire sighs. ‘’ you’re worth so much more than this. ‘’

her eyes fill with tears. dj just smiles, sad, knowing. climbs out, slides the frame shut, and slips away into the early morning.  

 

—

mikey isn’t always mean. sometimes he’s soft and inviting and he’s gentle with dj. soft kisses to the crown of his head, fingers brushing lightly over reddened skin. ‘’ c’mere, baby, ‘’ he’d say, with his arms open wide, ‘’ c’mere. you know i don’t want to hurt you, yeah? i love you, baby. c’mere, ‘’ and dj, dj smiles and crawls into mikey’s embrace. rests his head against the other boys broad chest. hopes that, maybe, this time, things will stay like this.

 

they never do.

 

—

the worst part about mikey, is that it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s mad. he’ll hurt dj for fun when he’s in a good mood - and the first time dj really makes him mad? he’s not entirely sure he’s going to survive it, after. 

let me set the scene. friday evening, mikey’s parents are out of town, they’re in his lavish bedroom playing videogames. well, mikey is playing. dj sits quietly next to him and taps out messages on his phone.

they sit in silence for over an hour. until mikey loses a game, and subsequently, his temper. he flings the controller across the room, the plastic leaving a dent in the wall where it meets the hollow plaster. dj jumps in alarm at the noise and flinches a little. 

 

mikey rounds on him. ‘’ what? scared of a little noise? ‘’ he stamps his foot against the floorboards, the motion reverberating across and causing the furniture to move. dj jumps again, and mikey snatches the phone from his hands and throws it to the ground. dj watches in horror, hearing the glass screen crack and splinter at the impact. he gasps and frowns, momentary anger overshadowing the fear.

 

‘’ what the hell?! mikey, i’m going to be in such **shit** for that- ‘’ his words are lost as mikey’s palm meets his face in a harsh smack that echos all around them. stunned by the sudden hit, dj straightens his neck, raising his fingertips to press against the stinging skin of his cheek. he opens trembling lips to ask, why, what, why- he doesn’t get the chance.

 

mikey bears down on him, pressing him into corderouy cushions with a murderous expression. ‘’ you’re so pathetic! ‘’ he snarls with disgust, his hand heavy on dj’s chest. ‘’ what are you, a man, or a little girl? ‘’

 

fear builds in dj’s throat and he tries to find a way around it. ‘’ when we first started going out you acted like a girl. silky blouses, makeup - you were nothing. a **freak** , a **mistake**. you **are** **nothing** , without me. ‘’

 

dj manages to hold his hands up in a sign of surrender, pleading, ‘’ mikey, please - ‘’

 

‘’ mikey, please, ‘’ the boy himself mimics tauntingly, voice pitched high and girly. he draws his fist back. dj tastes blood on his lips, then yelps in surprise as mikey tumbles them both to the floor, pinning his wrists and legs with his own body.

 

mikey is solid and heavy, muscle and mass, and dj is light as a feather, skin and bone. ‘’ **weak** , ‘’ mikey reminds him in a whisper, ‘’ **weak** , **ugly** , **gross** , **freak**. ‘’ tears slip out when dj blinks - mikey spits in his face and rears back, disgusted.

 

‘’ i give you everything, i let you **touch** me. i let you **kiss** me! i **give** \- ‘’ he punctuates his words with jabs to dj’s exposed torso, ‘’ and i **give** \- and i **give**! ‘’ he rolls off dj and lands a hard kick to the middle of his spine. dj curls up on his side, frail body wracked with sobs. ‘’ and look at you. ‘’ he shakes his head and sucks in a breath. ‘’ get the fuck out of my house. ‘’

 

dj tries. he tries valiantly, but he’s in pain, and his muscles scream at him when he moves. mikey has no patience at the best of times. he grasps a handful of dj’s hair - ‘’ shitty coloured shit hair ‘’ he hisses in dj’s ear, breath hot as it hits his skin, and physically drags him out the door, down the stairs, and out onto the front porch. mikey slams the door on dj’s crumpled, bloody body. leaving dj to pick up his own broken pieces, and limp all the way home.

 

—

it all comes to a head when dj is sixteen.

 

painfully underweight, bones protruding through his skin to the point where they appear to be moments away from slicing straight through. dj’s mood swings have only escalated - he shuts himself away from dave and klaus and mikey has isolated him from any friends he had before.

mikey, who bruises and bites and digs and prods and pokes at dj until he bleeds. and dj knows it’s because mikey loves him, that only mikey loves him even though he doesn’t deserve it. he’s so trapped in mikey’s grasp he doesn’t even notice - nor does anyone else - until it’s nearly too late.

 

until he wakes up in a hospital room, attached to machines, a drip in his elbow. klaus and dave sit either side; pale, ghostly, red rimmed eyes. dj panics.

 

‘’ wh - what - what happened- ‘’

 

‘’ you passed out. ‘’ klaus whispers as dave whimpers into the thin blanket covering dj’s even thinner body. ‘’ you - you just - you just collapsed - ‘’ klaus’ voice breaks and dj’s throat tightens. his heartbeat grows steadily louder until it becomes all he can hear and he doesn’t realise he’s screaming until a nurse pricks him with a needle. darkness pulls at his consciousness - kind, comforting darkness, that he is helpless to resist.

 

in the hallway, dave sobs into klaus’ chest. klaus valiantly tries to hold back his own tears. pressing kisses to dave’s head as he rubs circles on his boyfriend’s back.

‘’ how did we not see this? how did i not see this? ‘’ he cries, bordering on hysterics. ‘’ i promised i’d look after him, i promised i’d protect him, but now - my baby is dying, ‘’ and klaus’ throat throbs and he tightens his embrace. 

‘’ i know, love, i know, ‘’ he whispers shakily, ‘’ but he’ll get through this, hey, ‘’ he nudges dave, waiting till the man can lift his head to meet his gaze. ‘’ your baby - our baby - is strong, ‘’ klaus smiles weakly, heartache apparent in his watery eyes, ‘’ and he’s going to pull through and then - and then we’re gonna get through this together, okay? ‘’

dave is still heaving through sobs but he nods and buries his face into klaus’ neck. ‘’ we’ll make it right, ‘’ dave whispers, mostly to himself. ‘’ we’ll make it right. ‘’

 

—

claire breaks down when she hears that dj is in the hospital. fat tears pour down her face as she confesses all to allison. allison, who isn’t sure whether to be mad or upset or hurt, but chooses to listen first. 

 

claire tells her that mikey was always possessive, unstable, but that she swears she didn’t know how bad it was, she promises she didn’t realise, and then she loses the ability to speak as guilt blocks out rationality. so allison takes her daughter in her arms and rocks her back and forth and shushes her gently, whispers, ‘’ i believe you, i believe you, ‘’ and she isn’t aware that a more difficult conversation is coming. that her daughter is scarred from her own lack of self-worth and it will break allison’s heart, the way that it broke dave’s when the doctors told him.

 

told him that dj was severely underweight, his heart working too hard to support him, that there was evidence of untreated fractures and that they would have to call social services.

 

yeah, so. klaus and dave spend the night in seperate cells being questioned without mercy. officers who look at them with distrust and more than a hint of disgust. over and over again they protest their innocence - they’ve never laid a hand on their son, they need to be with him, he’s going to be scared if he wakes up again alone.

the officers ignore them.

 

and dj, of course, does completely freak out the second time he wakes up. he’s in a strange place, his father’s aren’t allowed to see him, and some lady wants to talk about his home life. it takes a while for him to calm down enough to finally tell them all the truth.

 

‘’ mikey ... my boyfriend... sometimes i make him mad, so he does what he has to do to show me i’m wrong. ‘’ 

and the social worker listens, and nods, and doesn’t judge. then, when dj runs out of words, she asks him, softly, ‘’ dj, you do know that what your boyfriend’s been doing to you is **wrong**? ‘’

 

dj blinks. mikey, _wrong_? no. that. that doesn’t comput

 

‘’ what if one of your dad’s was hitting the other? how would that make you feel? ‘’

and indignation flashes through dj’s weakened body. ‘’ they would never - ‘’ he realises halfway through his sentences and falls silent. the social worker nods.

 but, no. not mikey. mikey _loves_ him. this is what you do when you love someone ... isn’t it?

of course it’s not. of course it’s not but dj doesn’t know that, because mikey has spent the better part of three years brainwashing him, manipulating and bullying and breaking him down. and it breaks dave’s heart to know he couldn’t save his son from the monster under the bed. he holds dj’s hand when he’s finally released. dj is too frightened to meet his eyes.

‘’ are, are you mad at me? ‘’ he wants to know in a nearly-silent voice. dave is, at first, too shocked to answer.

when he recovers he squeezes dj’s hand - gently, so gently, because dj’s hands are tiny and cold as ice and so, so fragile - and tells him, _no_. _never_. ‘’ never, baby. this, this is not your fault. none of it, you hear me? ‘’

 

dj hesistates. dave pushes on.

 

‘’ you are the most beautiful, most precious thing in the world to me. and i’m sorry, dj. if anyone should be mad, it should be you. because i - i wasn’t there for you when you - needed me - ‘’

then dave is crying and dj is crying; and klaus is crying outside the door because he can’t make this better for them, none of them can make it better.

except ... they can. little, by little.

 dj is admitted to a youth psychiatric ward where he spends six weeks and attends a therapist specialising in youth trauma. every day he learns, a little bit more, just how wrong mikey was. just how wrong what happened to him actually was. and as he learns it almosts hurts more - he understands now, why his dad’s were so upset about this.

 

there are some bad nights. most nights, in fact, are spent shaking and crying, terrified of putting on weight, terrified of being ugly.

he’s not ‘’cured’’ when he’s discharged, and he probably never really will be. but he’s ... better than he was. he’s better than he was and that is something.

 when he gets home, he, dave, and klaus sit at their kitchen table. everything about the moment feels different. like things have changed irreversibly, like none of them were ever going to be the same again. because they weren’t going to be the same, and each of them knew that, to some degree, at least.

 

they sit at that kitchen table and talk all night. dj tells them about mikey, ‘’ he wasn’t all bad ... there were some times he was actually really sweet. but i know, now, that ... that was just his way of, of keeping me hanging on, you know? he... he lashed out, and ... made me feel like it was my fault. and i thought that if i could just be better, or skinnier, or hotter, that he’d ... that he’d love me. ‘’

 

and dave talks about his own trauma, the things he’s been hiding from for far too long. ‘’ sometimes i get scared that, klaus will leave me, and you’ll choose to ... to go with him. i - i still have flashbacks to iran, and panic attacks. i’ve hidden them because... i wanted you both to think i was the strong one. i didn’t want either of you to feel like you had to take care of me. but - it distracted me. made me... blind, to so much, and ... it’s time i stopped being blind. ‘’

 

then, klaus. ‘’ i don’t want to let either of you down. the drugs, the alcohol, they were so much a part of me i always... i always thought they were the only things that kept me alive. but they were killing me. and they’ve screwed me up, almost as much as my own assh- sorry - my own father did. and i don’t want to be my father. i don’t want to screw you up like that, dj, because, god, you deserve - so much more. and i guess i - i spent so much time worrying about how not to be a bad father, that i forgot to focus on how to be a good one. ‘’

 

they’re all weeping by the end, but a lot of it is relief. they all feel so much lighter by the end of their talk, the baggage finally unpacked and sorted through. cards on the table - they know each other better now than ever before. and it’s scary - they’re scared, but also hopeful. hopeful and determined to get healthy, together. a much-needed silence allows them space to breathe after the long talk, comforting as the shadows grow across the floor with the sun coming up over the horizon. finally, klaus cracks a small smile, and nudges dave with his shoulder.

‘’ guess we’re all a little fucked up. ‘’

and it’s a whisper and it shouldn’t be funny. but it is, and they all collapse into peals of laughter, and the laughter is wheezy, rusted from disuse. it feels so good to genuinely laugh, plus the no-sleep means they’re all a little delirious.

 

dj keeps going to therapy; dave starts attending a veterans support group, and klaus goes to biweekly AA meetings. slowly, surely, the healing process begins.

 

dj’s therapist, a kind, irish woman, named nine, recommends dj starting a drama group.

 ‘’ i run it, and it can be a really fun, healthy way to work through emotions. even if you come once, to observe, ‘’ she smiles, warmly, ‘’ see what it’s like. if it doesn’t appeal to you, i’ll not force you. but i think it might be good for you. ‘’

 

and dj’s never considered drama before - he’s never considered anything that wasn’t his relationship, he’s coming to realise - but he thinks, why not. he likes nine. he trusts her.

so dave drives him to a local community centre one saturday. he meets nine at the door and she is delighted to see him. that bolsters his confidence a little, so he ventures inside - only to hit against another solid body. he freaks, jumps back, apologies dropping frantically from his mouth.

the other kid just grins, crooked, and shakes his head. ‘’ it’s cool, man. i wasn’t watching where i was going. ‘’

dj is still hesitant. he watches the other boy like a hawk for any sign of violent movement. but all he does is hold out his hand - and dj suddenly notices that this guy has ... really _nice_ hazel eyes. and a _really_ nice smile, too. one that... is directed at him.

 

 **‘’ i’m nick. nick thrasher. ‘’**

**Author's Note:**

> there will be. a part 2! tho this took me almost a week to finish so. lord knows when i’ll post that. anyway! feedback is greatly appreciated!


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